Monday, January 25, 2010

Enough already..

Fuck I hate cancer. Just needed to get that out. It's the middle of the damned night and I should be  sound alseep but no... not me, my brain is for some reason working a mile a minute. It just occurred to me that I really might die from this. Sure thyroid cancer is known to be higly treatable, but everyone I know who's had this had one little surgery and most didn't even have to do radiation. So if after 2 surgeries and radiation treatment why do I still have it.

Everyone tells me to be positive, yeah well try my life on for size then tell me how I stay positive day after day. Walking around with a big stupid fake smile on my face, making everyone else feel like everything's gonna be ok. Maybe it's not.

So my brain keeps going back to the fact that we have nothing in place in case I DO DIE. What then?

I need to plan.... but what do they all do if I die, what do I want them to know if I die.

I scarred shitless that this ugly, horrific illness will not just ruin my family (as it's doing already) but also rob my family of me. Not that I am great or anything but I am trying to do my best for everyone. My daughter needs me to continue helping her to grow into the beautiful soul I she she can be. I have had some hand in the amazing man Aussie is becoming, and I want that for Roo.

I want to be here to see, first loves, graduations, weddings, children, grandchildren. Hell, I just wanna be here to make them breakfast. BREAKFAST.... is that really too much to ask for? To be here for every tomorrow to make them breakfast? A task that I always hated doing, I HATED morning routine... WHY? It's beautiful, it's chaotic and perfect. But I didn't see it. I didn't appreciate it. Well GOD I see it now so fuck off and let me have my life back!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone is alseep so now I can safely cry without causing worry. Then I'll write my kids the letters I've been avoiding. The letters of the things I want them to know after I am gone, and begin putting a box together of things for when I am gone....

I have had enough.


l'optimiste said...

yay!!'s a good thing! Go for it!

You know you can link up with other bloggers right? - we all seem to do that screaming and crying in the middle of the night thing. I wrote those same letters. Not to my kids, as I don't have any, but the husband, the step children, the family...and I thought those same things. The little things become so important - we appreciate them so much. And in a way that makes everything even harder.

Sending you big big hugs and lots of positive waves - keep in touch via the blog.

Jill said...

Wow, I am so glad you saw my blog and now I will follow your blog. So many things you say are so real especially when people say "Stay positive" haha! Let them go through it and see how positive they are.
I understand that low blood pressure, that happened to me the day after my surgery. It was like I wasn't in my body but could faintly hear the Doctors and nurses trying to figure out what happened as my BP was 52.The nurse stayed with me all night until I came out of it 9 hours later. Scary YES!
We have a right to use what words we want and to say how we feel...I use the f.....word a lot more than I ever did, lol.
Anyway, it's nice to meet a fellow Canadian:)

peggy said...

i can relate to EVERYTHING you've said Coleen. The insomnia, the inaility to turn off the brain.

The constant barrage of well-meaning people to "keep positive", "attitude is everything". It's for THEM not for us. They take cues from us cancery people to figure out how to act around us - and being "happy" and "positive" seems to make them feel they've done their part.

Hugs to you and your wonderful spirit and fight!


Anonymous said...

Hi Coleen,

Thanks for making your blog public and keeping it honest! :) Who cares if you swear or not?! I have become much more cynical after having the "best kind of cancer". Which brings me back to your blog:
I love the title! :) I have been told that I have the 'best cancer' (most curable) so many times that it makes me puke. By telling us this they belittle our condition and leave no room for expression on our side...

Love your blog! :))

Genevieve Thul said...

I feel your pain. My oncologist finally told me to see my thyroid cancer as "a chronic illness". Meaning it will be years until I know the outcome. As the years go by, the more I am sure I am in the 16% that die in the first 10 years. I was inspired by a local story, which helped me start to think about what I want to share if I do die. I have letters written to my kids, lots of life insurance (thankfully) and funeral planned. Here's the link to a story about her - make sure to watch the video when you have time to cry about it.

Anonymous said...

I don't have cancer and am one of the lucky ones, but I follow your other blog a nd decided to have a look at why you were gone so long from it. I read this post and could almost feel your pain. I am sorry you and others go through this. I never really understood until reading this how much of an emptional toll it takes on people. Godspeed Colleen!

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